


Shadows Receding

by casualhomesatanism



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Awkward Sex, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Descriptions of Sex Noises, Office Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhomesatanism/pseuds/casualhomesatanism
Summary: Years later, some of the old fears still stuck with them. They had each other, though, and that's something.(Not quite PWP, but pretty darn close.)





	

Riza happened to open the office door at the exact time that a bell halfway across the neighborhood chimed midnight. Roy shivered. He could see in her eyes, though, that it hadn’t been intentional, and she looked nearly as spooked as he felt, even though she continued into the room after only a moment of silence.

 

“I have the reports on agricultural production in Ishval, sir. Shall I leave these with you?” She met his eyes as she asked, and Roy noticed her rumpled hair, a few strands out of her usual bun, and her red, puffy eyes. It was beyond unusual for Riza to look so unkempt. He nodded, mindless, but couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to fix the rumpled shoulder of her uniform as she leaned over the desk.

 

She cleared her throat. “Sir. Führer Mustang.”

 

“Sorry. You—are you alright?”

 

“Of course.” Riza paused. “I should get back to work.”

 

Roy shook his head, catching her sleeve and then immediately letting go of it when she turned to glare at him. “No, you shouldn’t. It’s past midnight. Go home, Lieutenant.”

 

“Sir, with all due respect—”

 

“What happened, Riza?”

 

Her chest trembled at that, like the beginnings of a sob had gotten trapped in her throat. And, yes, there were tears welling in her eyes, reflecting golden light from the lamp on Roy’s desk. She made eye contact with Roy, finally, and he could tell that it was almost painful as she straightened up and took a step back. “You’re right, sir. I should get some rest. But so should you.”

 

“Not without telling me what’s going on,” countered Roy.

 

“Don’t worry yourself about it. Everything is fine.”

 

She was approaching the door to the office, once again, and ignoring the desperation in Roy’s voice. “Riza, can’t you just—”

 

_ “With all due respect,  _ would you please stop calling me that?” she snapped.

 

Roy was silent for a long moment, but Riza didn’t move. Her shoulders were hunched, her legs tense, as if she were about to run. “As your Führer,” said Roy, struggling to keep his voice cold and authoritative, “I command you to tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Mrs. Bradley called me.”

 

Silence fell again. “You specifically?” Roy prompted.

 

“Yes. Just to let me know how S-Selim is doing. And I… it took a lot out of me.” Roy said nothing, knowing that interrogating her would only make her more stubborn. “To be completely honest, I’m still afraid of the dark. When I hung up the phone, Hayate pounced on me from the shadows. Trying to lighten the mood, probably. But I panicked.”

 

Even from behind her, Roy could tell that she was crying. “Lieutenant—Riza,” he breathed, standing up and approaching her. “We’re all terrified of things like Pride. The Promised Day saved our country, but it created a lot of fear, as well. I still think that I see the Homunculi from time to time. Dammit, I’d almost say I’m scared of boobs, after Lust nearly killed us both.”

 

“Very funny, sir,” Riza deadpanned. “I’m glad to know our Führer’s secret weakness, after all these years.”

 

Roy rested a hand on her shoulder, and to his surprise, she didn’t jump. He wanted to say something funny, get back into their banter, even if it meant she might end up yelling at him. At least she wouldn’t be crying. But somewhere in the process, the words got mixed up, and as she turned around, he murmured, “You’ve always known my weakness.”

 

Her lips trembled. He rested his free hand on her waist, trying to soothe her, even though he could see the beginnings of her fight-or-flight reflex on her face.

 

“I want to help you,” he continued, moving his hand from her shoulder to her cheek and cleaning the tears from her face with one thumb. “You don’t have to recover all by yourself.”

 

Riza sobbed. Her face made contact with Roy’s shoulder, and then he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his body as tightly as he could while she cried with renewed fervor. Out of the blue, Roy remembered the first time they had kissed, in a tent in Ishval, Riza’s killer eyes overflowing with tears as he fluttered uncertain hands over her back and shoulders. The second time—when he burned the tattoo. Well, that hadn’t been a kiss, really; she’d been lying face-down on her bed, face stony and raw, while he smoothed the best healing salve he could find over her blistered skin and then dusting gentle kisses up her neck and into her hair. She had tried to turn her head and kiss him for real, only to find that her skin twisted too painfully to reach that far. Roy had struggled not to cry, as he had since, every time he caught a glimpse of the tattoo.

 

Then there had been the third time, only minutes after his vision had been returned to him, when she had pulled their sterile hospital cots close to each other, and he had touched the bandages covering her neck with delicate fingers, and they couldn’t stay apart any longer. After that night, something about their interactions had changed, but it was impossible to tell what it really was; neither good nor bad, the two of them were just something new, and Roy wasn’t always certain that he liked it. Most of the time, she reverted to the strained formality that his rank entailed. And then she would drop it, sometimes, so suddenly that his head would spin and he could barely keep up with the situation. Who was he now, Roy or Führer Mustang? Her childhood friend (and crush, he liked to think) or her commanding officer? Someone she loved or someone whose orders she followed?

 

When she detached herself from his jacket, head tilting back to pull him down toward her face, Roy knew.

 

He could taste salt on her lips. But the inside of her mouth tasted more like caramel, for some reason, hidden amongst the viscerally wrenching sensations of another human so close to him, nearly consuming him. It took a few long moments before he even realized that he was gripping her hip with one hand, the other tangled almost too tightly in her hair, underneath the clip. She reached back to let her hair down, messy as it already was. Roy closed a fist around the silky mass and pulled, light as he could, and then inhaled the short gasp from Riza’s mouth.

 

“Is this okay?” he whispered, using her hair as leverage to pull their mouths just slightly apart. One of Riza’s hands worked its way inside the collar of his jacket to scratch at the soft skin above his collarbone as she nodded. Roy smirked. “Good. And you mean that? You’re not just doing whatever  _ your Führer _ wants?”

 

Riza’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I mean it. We both know that you follow more orders from me than vice versa.”

 

Looking up over her shoulder, Roy snorted. “I can’t really argue.”

 

She crashed her mouth into his again, seemingly tired of listening to him talk, and again Roy found himself moving without keeping track of his body. He crossed the room with his face still attached to Riza’s, until he had her pinned against his desk, and he could tell by the way her hands tugged at his shirt that she was enjoying his effortless control. Her nails were definitely leaving marks on the skin of his lower back. She bit his lower lip, grinding her jaw so that it rolled between her teeth, and he whined much louder than either of them had expected.

 

“Riza,” he panted as soon as she moved her mouth down to nip at his throat, “Riza, I-I—”

 

“Shh. I know.” Riza mumbled the words into his skin, moving her head to one side so that she could bite down on the edge of his ear. She apparently wasn’t satisfied with the remaining distance between them, and she tugged him farther toward her; Roy stumbled and landed with one knee between her legs, and she sighed.

 

The room was silent for a moment as Riza nuzzled into his neck and laid slow but gentle kisses on the skin there. Then her tongue drew a slick line up the side of his trachea, and Roy groaned so low in his chest that he barely realized he was making the sound. He could feel Riza smirking. When she looked up, her face was still puffy from crying, but something in her was happier— _ safe. _ They were safe together. That was something.

 

“Do you wanna,” he started, swallowing down his nervousness. “Do you wanna go… back to my room? We’re—we’re already in the palace, so, I guess…”

 

Riza was definitely laughing at him now. “I don’t really want to wait that long,” she whispered against his cheek. “That’s quite the walk, unfortunately, and plenty of people could see us looking… less than professional.” As she said it, she tilted her hips into his, and Roy inhaled in a decidedly controlled, mature fashion. “There’s a sofa in your office, you know. Or this desk. Or a wall. I’m not feeling picky at the moment.”

 

Blood was rushing to places Roy could hardly think about as her voice tapered off, and he wasted no time in pushing her uniform jacket from her shoulders and then pulling her hips flush with his. “Well, if you’re so worried about seeming  _ unprofessional,” _ he growled, “maybe we ought to find somewhere a bit less open.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, but before she could snark at him in return, he had grasped her butt and pulled her legs flush against his waist, then wrapped his arms around her back and lifted her from the desk. Riza let out an indignant squeak and then quickly covered her surprise, choosing instead to kiss his nose, his forehead, his eyebrows, and finally his mouth as he carried her unsteadily toward the closet in the back of the office.

 

It was more of a cabinet, really. There was only a small space between the back wall, the door, and the stiff blue coats taking up most of the space, but they didn’t need room at this point, not when Riza was tossing his jacket out through the half-open door and then attacking the buttons on his shirt. Her thighs were already trembling around him, even though he had her pressed so hard against the wall that he couldn’t imagine it was too hard for her to hold herself up. “You gonna be able to keep up with me?” he teased, pressing his tongue into the hollow between her collarbones. “You’re already shaking.”

 

“I’d be just fine if you wouldn’t take so long!”

 

He laughed, deeper and rougher than usual. “I’ll try my best.” While she untucked his shirt the rest of the way and then scratched uselessly at the waistband of his pants, Roy reached around his back to tug her boots off, then finally let her down for a minute, realizing that there was no way to get her pants off while she was pinned between him and the wall. He shed his own boots and pants and then gaped openly as Riza practically ripped her shirt from her shoulders. In a heartbeat, he was on her again, mouthing at her breasts and running his thumbs underneath them, listening to her panting and squirming under his touch as he made quick work of her bra. Vaguely, he realized that she was mostly focused on fighting to get the last few items of clothing off of herself, while he was still so focused on the task at hand.

 

As if realizing something, she laughed, sharp and commanding. “Afraid of boobs, huh?”

 

“Shut up, Hawkeye,” mumbled Roy, scraping one nipple between his teeth so that her laughter turned into a high, stuttered moan. She had finally relieved herself of her pants, and he took the opportunity to appreciate the warm skin of her thighs, before kissing from her breasts to her stomach, farther, until his lips were just brushing her underwear, and she was staring at him with eyes that could swallow him whole and run away at the same time.

 

He cleared his throat, tilting backward a bit. “Are you okay?”

 

Riza nodded without a sound.

 

“This is okay?” He moved closer to her again, running his fingers along the edges of her underwear, fingers tingling with anticipation.

 

“Roy,” she responded. “I want this. I want you. And don’t you dare worry that I’m just following orders or some bullshit like that.”

 

His face broke into a grin as he yanked her underwear down her legs and nipped at her thigh, soaking up the tiny sounds coming from deep within her throat. Two of his fingers found her folds, then her entrance, rubbing playfully through the wetness there. As he moved his face closer to her center, kissing every inch of skin along the way, he pressed his middle finger up into her and curled it toward himself, and Riza cried out.

 

“A little sensitive, are we?” he muttered into the soft hair above her clit. She hadn’t heard him, he figured, or else she’d probably be giving him half a death glare by now. As he continued to move his finger, he kissed his way down to where it entered her, then added a second finger as his tongue explored her flesh. Then he moved back upward, and when he finally reached out just to flutter over her clit, pumping his fingers harder against her front wall, she made a sound that was closer to a sob than a moan. Roy pulled back, startled, and in the dim light from the office he could see damp tear tracks on Riza’s face again.

 

He stood abruptly. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He didn’t know what to do, where to touch her, and so he rested his hands on her hips as lightly as possible and tried to express through his eyes alone just how badly he wanted her to enjoy being with him.

 

“N-no,” she responded, shaking her head almost too fast. “It’s just—emotional—I love this, Roy, please don’t worry about it. Look, you’re crying, too. We both know this has been a long time coming.”

 

She’s right on both counts. His face mirrors her, sticky with tears and disoriented, but Riza is smiling now and he can’t help but laugh at them, crying together naked in a damn closet.  _ People of Amestris, meet Führer King Mustang, and his trusty Lieutenant.  _ “Please, don’t let me hurt you, Riza,” he pleaded against her lips. She was more focused on removing his underwear. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

For a moment, he wanted to smack his head into the closet door for saying that out loud, but Riza didn’t even so much as tense. “I love you, Roy, don’t look so startled.”

 

There was her sass again. He laughed, open and unexpectedly calm, and Riza pulled him toward her for another wet, overwhelming kiss. Her fingers had wrapped around his cock and were moving, but so slowly that it nearly hurt, and he whimpered into her mouth when she ran one thumb across the underside. “P-please,” he begged, “I can’t—I—”

 

“Come on, Roy. I want you inside me  _ now.” _

 

That was enough prompting. He wrapped his hands around as much of her thighs as he could and lifted her, pinning her once again between himself and the wall, and then stood on his toes for a few moments as he struggled to line himself up with her. Riza’s breaths were fast and ragged, her arms thrown around his shoulders and her fingers tangled in his sweaty hair. Finally, he found the angle, and he fell back to his feet as he began to push into her.

 

This was a noise that Roy had never so much as imagined her making. Somewhere between crying, gasping, and practically singing, Riza moaned into his neck and scraped her nails across his shoulderblades. He was barely halfway inside her, and the deeper he went, the more broken she sounded. He rested one hand in her hair to pull his face away from him, gently, and when he saw her half-open eyes and gasping mouth, he knew that it was a  _ good _ noise, as unusual as it may have been for her.

 

He began to move before he got all the way into her, thrusting a tiny bit deeper every time, and practically drinking the high-pitched sighs she made in response. He readjusted his grip on her hair and tugged, earning a stuttered  _ “o-ohh”  _ in response. She was starting to tense erratically around him, and Roy tried not to fixate on the ease with which he was already bringing her to pieces. All of a sudden, she threw her head backward, nearly smashing his nose in the process, and shouted a string of expletives that he mentally catalogued to tease her about later.

 

Despite the tension building in his legs, Roy slowed down and helped her through the orgasm, finally letting her catch her breath. “You are fantastic,” he whispered, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “So beautiful. I can’t even begin to tell you how you look right now, not to mention how you feel. I love this, Riza.” His voice trembled as he fought to control himself. It was getting harder to keep from just slamming her back into the wall and fucking her until he forgot who he was. But when she opened her eyes again and looked at him, skeptical at first and then overflowing with adoration and warmth, he knew that it was worth the wait.

 

“What’d you slow down for?” she asked once she could speak again. The irritation in her voice was hilariously dissonant with the loving smile on her face.

 

“Uh. I was just letting you catch your breath. So sorry to not meet your standards, Lieutenant.” He worried for a moment that she wouldn’t take well to hearing the title while he was slowly rocking into her with more and more force, but her eyes flashed and she kissed him hard enough to make him dizzy. When she finally let go of his face, he wanted to tease her, but found that he could barely breathe. Her legs were clamped so tightly around his waist that he could barely move, but he still thrusted into her as deep as he could as he started to lose his rhythm. “Riza,” he moaned, moving his hand from her hair to the side of her face. “F-f-fuck—I’m—”

 

She held him in place with her arms tight around his shoulders as he came. Roy didn’t want to imagine the noises coming out of his mouth, but luckily he couldn’t hear them, since it seemed as if his eardrums had been blown out and the only thing he was aware of was Riza’s mouth on his neck, kissing, biting, whispering something he couldn’t make out. His hips shuddered a few more times before he slid out of her, gently letting her legs come back down so that she was supporting her own weight. Well, for the most part, since they still seemed to be shaking too hard to hold her up fully. There might’ve been tears on his face again, but he couldn’t tell. The closet smelled like her—and sex, but mostly her—fire and coffee beans and some unidentified evergreen, musky with sweat. He really didn’t want to put his clothes back on. And he really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to send her home, back to the tiny apartment where she’d called him years ago, blood on her cheek and voice shaking after her first encounter with Pride.

 

“Stay,” he whispered, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “I don’t want to spend the night without you.”

 

Riza looked almost surprised at his sincerity, but then she leaned into his touch and smiled, so warm he lost his breath again. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> rewatching brotherhood has me remembering the ol' royai daydreams that kept me nice and distracted in high school so I figured why not let the rest of the world enjoy them? I haven't written smut in years so if it's a bit stiff, I'm still getting into the groove. I actually kinda know what I'm talking about now. So. Like. Yeah.
> 
> leave a comment if you want more along these lines—I had a great time writing this. I hope you enjoyed it!!


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